


I'll Have You Know That My Crew and My Planes Come First

by IrishCoffee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishCoffee/pseuds/IrishCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another small drabble for Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo, the prompt being "hand"</p><p>It's a tiny bit of almost-porn. Taking the inspiration of the word and using it for a quick and casual hand job. Not much more to it than that.  This is my first ever public bit of smut, it's pretty tame but it's also something I'm proud of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Have You Know That My Crew and My Planes Come First

It was a lazy night at home, the sort of night both men loved and tried to set up every chance they could even if neither would say why. So far both Greg and Jim had spent the evening shifting across the piece of furniture in effort to still their bodies and remain comfortable. Though they both loved the lazy nights, there were days when both men found it hard to remain still for an extended period of time— Jim especially.

The programme on the television had gone from the nightly news (on three different channels) to a documentary on old war planes. The choice was enough to keep Jim happy (in other words not some action movie they'd both seen way too many times) but not exactly interested. He'd opted, instead, to pick up the book he'd left in the room weeks ago and continue reading with no trouble picking up on the exact sentence he had left off on when he had last laid the book down.

Greg was use to his partner's preference and often times would join him, picking up a book of his own and flipping off the telly as they read separately, off in their own worlds yet simultaneously together, which was something that the couple loved about their time together. But tonight wasn't that sort of night. Greg's restless energy didn't blend well with sitting still and reading, so instead he allowed the narrator to drone on about fighter planes and their problems. 

A half hour into the show and Greg had calmed drastically. He was sitting, facing the screen, and engrossed in his show which was talking about planes of the first world war. Jim wasn't as lucky. He was now sitting with his back against the arm rest, legs across Greg's lap as his mind went in two completely separate directions: quietly reading the words on the page in front of him and partially listening to the words coming from the telly, resisting the urge to correct the skewed facts coming from the narrator.

The ever fidgeting man had been sitting that way for a minute, tops, when a foot started to subconsciously shake back and forth showing the unrest Jim was feeling. Without saying a word Greg put his hand up on his partner's thigh and started to smooth across the fabric of sweats that use to belong to him. Jim's foot stopped moving, distracted by the light touch for a moment, but not for long. The small touch could only distract him for so long before he became accustom to the feeling and it was no longer new.

Greg didn't give up or stop moving his hand, instead the path went from a small area mid-thigh to nearly knee to hip. His hand moved slowly up and down the length of Jim's thigh, still attempting to soothe the restless man though the movements weren't nearly as innocent as they had been a moment ago.

It was the archived footage of a dogfight that caused Greg's hand to stop moving and evoked a soft yet almost whiny groan of protest from the other. He had been enjoying that, thank you.

Rather than resume what he'd been doing, Greg moved his hand up until it was able to push under Jim's plain tee-shirt and the touch caused the ‘victim' to suck in a subtle breath, his stomach to go slightly concave for a quick second.

Once Greg's warm hand rest against the somehow always chilled skin of his partner his thumb started to move across the skin. Jim thought little of it, figuring that it was Greg's way of furthering the attention he was currently dishing out in order to keep him calm. It was working and the way Jim saw it the touches were innocent enough as the two always seemed to have a soothing hand on each other in one way or another, but at this point absolutely nothing going through Greg's mind could be qualified as innocent.

His hand shifting and sliding down Jim's torso, thumb pushing under the loose waistband of the tired old sweats, Greg's eyes remained fixed on the screen. Nothing on his face gave away his actual intentions or the things he was currently doing to Jim. Transfixed on his war planes and if not for the hand playing with the waistband of the other's pants one would think that he was paying Jim no attention whatsoever.

Curling and uncurling his fingers slowly, Greg traced them along the skin below the other's navel which cemented the fact that this was more than just a comforting touch. Jim's stomach curled along with his toes at the sensation but he, much like Greg, didn't let his cards show. The only tell Jim gave was a sharp inhale through his nose that slipped out before he could stop it.

Neither man turned their attention from their respective distractions as Greg's hand completely slipped past the band of the sweats and Jim's pants all at once. Greg did shift how he was sitting for the eventual better angle he'd need, but even that seemed an innocent enough movement to get comfortable to oblivious eyes.

Greg didn't tease, he didn't play around, or waste time like he would in other situations. As unexpected as this was, no real need for it, he wanted to get right to the point and while the other was vaguely enjoying the teasing, Jim was appreciative of his partner's approach. Not faltering from his plan Greg's hand wrapped around Jim, a light grip just at the base, as his fingers began to apply pressure to the underside of his partner's cock and the feeling of Greg fondling his cock just right as he began to grow harder in his hand.

The unfortunate thing about being a middle-aged man was your sex drive was disappearing. It was a terrible time to enter a new relationship not only with a younger man but one whose libido couldn't even be accurately measured on most charts. This meant either he turned Jim down, which he never wanted to do, willingly took the hit to his pride and relied on pills, or he took matters into his own hands. Tonight fell under the latter. The unexpectedness of the whole thing had caught Jim off guard and gave his partner the upper hand— literally. Nothing Jim did hinted at the need for release but that's what made it better in Greg's eyes. He was doing this because he wanted to, not because Jim was asking for it in any way.

Still working under the fabric of the other's clothes, Greg closed his hand completely and started to tighten and loosen his grip as he moved his hand just slightly. There was a slight smirk on his face as he moved his hand down the entire length, using the move to both push the waistband of Jim's pants out of the way.

Greg continued working Jim's cock, applying more pressure and gaining speed as he went on. Jim kept his eyes on his book throughout the process, not allowing himself to give into the urge to move along to the strokes or do more than let out the occasional shaky breath, though he found it harder to concentrate and his eyes scanned the same sentence three times the closer that he got. If Greg could do this with a straight face, so could he.

Even when he felt himself getting close to that edge, Jim said nothing. He bit his bottom lip and tightened his muscles to resist the urge to thrust up into Greg's hold. As he was about to cum he considered saying something, but decided against it. Greg had gone about this unexpectedly and Jim could end it the same way. It was only fair.

Greg knew better though, there was a mess on it's way that couldn't be left until morning to clean and if it wasn't taken care of properly the whole relaxation thing would be for naught. A brief stopping of movement which caused a whine from his partner and Greg shifted from where he was sitting to kneeling on the floor as swiftly as a middle-aged man could. A groan from him that wasn't one of pleasure but rather sore joints and he positioned himself in front of Jim. 

The whine of protest wasn't stopped even when Jim figured out what was happening, even through the glow of pride was there knowing damn well what his man was doing right now. Not only was it incredibly hot but knowing Greg knew him well enough to take care of any mess was very attractive. 

Before he was even settled completely on the floor, Greg's mouth was around Jim's cock. He didn't waste time taking it slow and the hums of pleasure from his partner said that was the right choice. Greg knew Jim was close, well close, and everything right now was for release. 

Jim's hips gave an involuntary shudder right before he came and the warm liquid spilled over into Greg's mouth. Greg continued to give a few pumps afterwards, but they slowed significantly until they stopped and eventually his mouth lifted from around the spent cock, swallowing before wiping his lips on the back of his hand. 

As though he'd been done of the floor looking for a remote under the sofa or something mundane, Greg pushed his way behind Jim rather than taking the seat he'd had before with feet in his lap. Eyes instantly turning back to the programme on the tell which was now about how they made war rations.

Reluctant to move, Jim allowed the other to squeeze between his spent body and the arm of the sofa. Greg lifted his arm and wrapped it around Jim. Pants and trousers were still down as the men settled in together, considerably calmer now.  
A few long beats of silence and Jim spoke up for the first time since the excursion had started. "A bit of assistance?" He asked casually, lifting his hips to indicate that he was talking about pulling the pants that were now around his knees back up where they belonged.

Greg finally broke and a grin spread across his face, but it went unseen by Jim as he was still engulfed in his book. "I'm watching something." he was teasing and would have gladly helped Jim but it was more fun to pretend nothing had happened, that was how the entire thing went so why not keep it up?

An exasperated groan, though hardly shocked, and Jim played up how much trouble this was for all he could get. Resting his book against his chest, Jim lifted his hips from the sofa and worked himself back into his pants. A moment of debate and he laid back against Greg, using his feet to pull himself from the sweats and letting them hit the floor as he picked the book back up, re-reading a sentence he had five times before and eventually finding his spot. 

To say the least, Jim was no longer feeling restless. He was feeling content and damn good all around.


End file.
